Page 11 of Craved By Gray

My stiff cock aches painfully behind my zipper as I crowd her to the counter, thrusting my cock against her as I kiss her lips with the hunger of a man coming off a decade-long celibacyjourney. She feeds into that hunger, fingers clenching on my shirt I lose myself in the soft velvety feeling of her lips.

Mine!

A low groan climbs up my throat when I break the kiss to trail my mouth down her neck, and she lets me, arching back to allow me access. She whimpers as I drag my tongue down the curve of her throat, feeling her pulse thrum fast against my mouth. Her breath catches in her throat when I nip at her skin before licking the spot to soothe the sting.

“You are right to think that this is crazy,” I rasp, leaning down to kiss her breasts over her T-shirt, hearing her cry out when I suck a bead into my mouth. “We don’t know each other beyond what we’ve been told by others, but I knew I wanted you from the moment I spotted you at the cookout.”

“You did?” she breathes, surprise clear in her voice.

“How could I not?” A shiver courses through her as I nip at her tits through the T-shirt, running my tongue to soothe the sting. “You were so regal. A dark-haired princess, oblivious to everyone else around her as she stared out into the city. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” I drop to my knees on the floor, mouth salivating at the thought of tasting her. I nudge open her thighs for me, sucking in a sharp breath when I get a clear view of her pink heaven, glistening with arousal. “This is what I pictured myself doing that evening at the cookout.” I kiss her thigh, moving my lips up until I’m inches away from her pussy, quickly getting high off her scent. It’s intoxicating, and the animal in me roars for a taste, clawing desperately at my chest. “You were gorgeous that night, and I wanted to kiss you…lick you everywhere.” She gasps when I bring her knee to my shoulder, exposing more of her sex. “Taste you.”

My eyes close when I dip my tongue into her sex, dragging it over her slit and teasing her clit with the tip. She jerks hard, crying out, but I’m only getting started. My hand closes around her thigh to hold her in place as I bury my face between her legs, licking her sex feverishly and tasting her sweet arousal on my tongue.

It’s addictive. I can’t understand how this girl is unclaimed because no man on earth would want to share this girl with another once they had her in their arms.

I’m no different.

Bound in her spell, I am helpless to do anything but pleasure her, reveling in the feel of her softness. I worship her sex as I’ve imagined doing a hundred times, kissing and batting her clit hungrily. The room fills with the sound of her cries and the deep satisfied groans in my throat.

“Gray,” she pants, her hips rising to ride my tongue. Her fingers slide into my hair where she grabs a fistful, pulling me closer to her sex. All sense of shyness disappears as she rolls her hips, chasing the release.

“So fucking hot,” I growl against her pussy, burying my tongue in her succulent flesh and worshipping every inch of it.

She sobs when I drawl her clit between my lips, tugging hard at the swollen bud until I feel her tummy shudder. I slide my left hand under her T-shirt and palm her tit, kneading the small globe with my greedy palms and pinching her nipple even as I ravage her sex with my tongue. “Oh God. Gray… Oh… I… God!”

“Come for me, princess,” I growl, tugging at her clit between my lips. I pinch her nipple between my knuckles and tug the sensitive bud. “Want to feel your release all over my tongue. Do it!” Her nails dig into my scalp as her hips movefeverishly seconds before she jolts with a scream, a rough shudder rolling through her body, and I watch her come apart, lapping hungrily at her pulsing sex as she orgasms, rough tremors rocking through her system. She chants my name, her thigh flexing against my head as I suck her clit, drawing out the orgasm until she’s sobbing for reprieve.

Mine.

There is a red fog crowding my vision when I climb to my feet, a deep feral need clawing in my chest to take this girl. To mark her as mine. I’m an animal when I slam my mouth down on hers, letting her taste herself on my lips.

She’s mine!

I tear at my zipper, tugging hard at the button before reaching in to grab my stiff cock. It’s so painfully hard, I realize that I’m not going to last. Not when I can still taste the girl on my lips. I jerk my cock fast, breaking the kiss to breathe against her lips, and it takes three strokes before I am coming all over her stomach. My breath comes in rough pants, muscles straining as I paint her with my cum, a rough shudder rolling through my muscles. “Fuuuck!”

My body goes lax, and I collapse, burying my face in her neck as I try to make sense of what the hell just happened. I feel tentative arms circle my shoulders, our harsh breathing the only sound in the room. Neither one of us speaks for a long time.

There are questions, but neither one of us voices them. Instead, we choose to just…feel and bask in the moment we just shared. Later, I’ll worry about what the fuck I was thinking touching a Viper.

Chapter Five

Scarlett

A chorus of groans rings through the hall as Professor Thompson announces our next assignment, which immediately startles me into the present. I’ve been daydreaming, replaying the moment Gray and I shared in my apartment over and over in my brain; I can almost recreate the entire thing.

No, I wouldn’t make it out alive if someone placed a gun to my head and promised to spare my life only if I stated one thing the professor had said during the two-hour lecture. My mind was elsewhere the entire time.

On him.

The man lying to my father and a bunch of dangerous men about his identity. The man I let touch me. The man who kissed me like he was starved and then proceeded to drive that wild tongue over my sex. In my kitchen, and again later on the couch before he left.

“I’m so over this. Professor Thompson and his darn surprise assignments,” Brooke whines from the seat next to mine. “God, where does the man get the time to even go through them?”

“He doesn’t,” I comment, nodding toward his teaching assistant, a pretty redhead who seems to have aged ten years since she started working for the professor. I can almost read the resentment in her eyes when the man announces yet another essay, but she’s not the only one.

I can’t help but feel a sense of dread, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of writing another essay. I see the same thought process mirrored in the faces of my classmates, most of whom major in other things, but are forced to take this class in philosophy. There is a collective despair when we realize we’re going to be spending the next few weeks wrestling with obscure, hard-to-understand theories instead of facts.

The professor continues to talk, his voice a monotonous drone in the background, and I find myself zoning out once more. My thoughts drift back to Gray and his very skilled mouth. I feel the spot between my thighs tingle at the memory before I am rudely yanked back to the present again.

---